


Please Tommy, Please.

by Vivredeseaux



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Character Death, Depression, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Post-The Maze Runner, Post-The Scorch Trials, Sad Ending, Spin off story, Suicidal Thoughts, The Death Cure, The Death Cure Spoilers, The Maze Runner Spoilers, The Scorch Trials - Freeform, The Scorch Trials Spoilers, newtmas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 11:04:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13762773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivredeseaux/pseuds/Vivredeseaux
Summary: WARNING!!! (The Death Cure Spoilers)Newt knows he isn’t going to make it, and doesn’t have much time left.He has only a few things to do before his final goodbye, and needs to get them done.Thomas, you God Damn Hero.





	Please Tommy, Please.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING!!! If you have not seen or read “The Death Cure” from the Maze runner series, I strongly suggest you wait till you have to read this fanfic. It contains MAJOR spoilers.
> 
> If you have, I suggest listening to these songs while reading it, to strengthen your emotions:  
> Good Grief - Bastille  
> In This Shirt - The Irrepressible  
> Let’s Hurt Tonight - OneRepublic  
> Shameless - The Weekend  
> The Scientist - Coldplay

A stone sank in Newt’s stomach, as he looked down at his wrist.

The black veins of the virus beginning to spread, for now just a small dark web inside of his skin.

He wasn’t like the others - immune. He was like Winston and Alby, normal. **Sick**.

He clenched his fist, rubbing it with his other digits.

His thoughts had been consuming him for days now, terrible demons of destruction, throwing bombs around in his head, and screaming frightening sentences into his ears. He curled into a little ball against the wall and closed his eyes, forcing hard and desperate breaths through his teeth.

He knew it was the work of the Flare. It felt like artificial emotions, not his own. He hated it.

There were many things to be done. Many things he didn’t have the time to do, and didn’t have the strength to. It was all so strange. It was all so sad.

There were spots in his brain. He couldn’t remember everyone, the faces in the glade were disappearing. He was forgetting.

He whispered the names of those who’d fallen before him. It was all that kept him alive, knowing that all these people died to secure a better future for others.

He knew he’d be one of those to fall along with the rest for the cause.

Quickly, Newt rose to his feet, running to a room full of the resistance’s resources, shifting through the boxes and looking inside desk drawers.

He found what he was looking for - a pen and paper. Then he started to write.

  
_Dear Thomas,_

  
_This is the first letter I can remember writing. Obviously, I don't know if I wrote any before the Maze. But, even if it's not my first, it's likely to be my last._  
_I want you to know that I'm not scared. Well, not of dying, anyway. It's more forgetting. It's losing myself to this virus, that's what scares me._  
_So every night I've been saying their names out loud. Alby, Winston, Chuck._  
_And I repeat them over and over like a prayer and it all comes flooding back._  
J _ust the little things like when the sun used to hit the Glade at that perfect moment right before it slipped beneath the walls._  
_And I remember the taste of Frypan's stew._ _I never thought I'd miss that stuff so much._  
_And I remember you._  
_I remember the first time you came up in the Box, just a scared little Greenie who couldn't even remember his own name._  
_From that moment you ran into the Maze, I knew I would follow you anywhere._ _And I have. We all have._  
_If I could do it all over again, I would._ _And I wouldn't change a thing._  
_My hope for you is when you're looking back, years from now, you'll be able to say the same._  
_The future is in your hands now, Tommy._ _And I know you'll find a way to do what's right._ _You always have._  
_Take care of everyone for me._ _And take care of yourself._ _You deserve to be happy._  
_Thank you for being my friend._  
_Goodbye, mate._

_  
Newt._

  
He set the pen down shakily, and exhaled slowly.

This is how it ends. He just hoped that it wouldn’t all be in vane. He hoped for a cure.

If not for him, then for the others.

He rolled up the note, crease by crease until it was small enough to fit into the locket of his necklace.

He wasn’t sure where the necklace came from. He’d just had it.

At least it was being used.

After shutting the small compartment closed, he walked back to be with the others. Thomas was probably plotting to leave, with how he’d been acting. He knew that they just couldn’t leave Minho at WCKD, no matter what the chief at their base camp had said.

He decided his assumptions were true, and went to go grab Fry Pan and pack up a car.

~

The infection was spreading. Not to fast, but noticeable enough.

Newt counted everything he had ever wished for in the glade, thinking of all the things he’d leave behind without doing. Without seeing. Without knowing.

There were lots of things he’d miss - the hot summer evenings swinging from their beds, listening to the maze shift as the other campers started a bonfire. The taste of adventure on his tongue while running through the scorch with His friends.

Thomas.

He’d miss Thomas. It was confusing to him, why he felt as he did. From the day Thomas had come out of the box in the glade, Newt wasn’t the same. Even as a Greenie, Thomas had guts to run, stand up to Gally, kill a griever, and lead all of them to freedom. Even if most of them were killed, he did that all on his own. He was courageous, and strong.

Newt loved him for that.

~

It was the night before they left for the city. He didn’t have much time left, he felt his sickness spreading ever hour. He didn’t have enough words prepared.

But he had to do it, once before he was gone.

Newt knocked lightly on Thomas’s door - well, wall - and leaned his head in. Thomas looked up, his eyes tired and sad.

The boy missed Minho. They all did, and that’s why they’re there. He probably also missed Theresa. She was the only person who had ever made sense to him, he could see it in his eyes.

Thomas patted the spot beside his bed, scooting over a few inches. Newt came to sit, folding his hands in his lap. His shirt sleeves were long, covering the virus.

He started off slow. Otherwise it’d all come pouring out.

“Thomas... have you ever thought about what would’ve happened if you were killed in the maze? Like, what would happen to all of us. We would never have escaped.”

Thomas licked his lip, looking down at the floor. His knee was bobbing, which made his hand bounce a little. He did that when he was thinking.

“I think that if I had died, nothing would have changed.”

He answered. There was an edge in his voice, and he looked tense. Newt dropped his head, putting his hand on Thomas’ shoulder.

“I’m sure as Hell glad that you did come, and stay alive. we were all bloody cowards. Even Gally didn’t have the courage to rescue our friends if they’d gotten stuck in the maze, and he was the bravest of us all.”

Thomas looked up, staring at newt and fiddling with his fingers.

“I think you were more brave than anyone in that maze.”

The answer had caught Newt off guard.

“What makes you say that?”

He asked. Thomas scratched his cheek, and averting his eyes for a moment. Newt found it extremely attractive, which wasn’t much help.

“Because you were always there for everyone, no matter who they were or what they did. You were always there, even if I’d only been there a few days, and Gally had been there for years. It takes a certain kind of person to do all that. You’re every ounce as brave as I, and even more.”

Newt almost choked. Leaving Thomas would be the hardest.

He wasn’t brave at all. He wasn’t scared of dying, it was true. But he was scared of losing Thomas, and losing himself. The fear was awful.

Newt bit his bottom lip, staring back down at the ground. It was so hard to look at Thomas now, knowing he couldn’t have him. There wasn’t even a possibility that he could, even if he was immune - Theresa and Brenda were both competing for his attention.

As long as he was happy.

No, Newt needed one night. He was allowed to be selfish, even if it was only for a few minutes, or even seconds.

“Thomas,”

He said, turning back to the other boy.

“Yea?”

He asked. Newt gulped.

“Can you forget about everything for a moment. Just for a moment?”

Slowly, Thomas nodded. There was a question in his gaze, a gaze that Newt loved too much. He cast it every time he was worried, and all the boy wanted to do was infold him in his arms, and whisper “it’s okay”.

And he grabbed Thomas’ cheeks, pressing his lips down on top of the others. Thomas gasped for a moment, jumping. Then there was silence.

Against his lips, Newt whispered,

“Please Tommy. Please.”

They were oh-so still. Newt had just played Russian Roulette, and he’d been struck with the one bullet in the chamber.

_Only Thomas kissed back._

Not gentle, or sweet, or small. He crashed upon him like a wave, his head tilted sideways and all. It was like everything disappeared, and they were the only ones alive.

They fought over each other for what seemed like minutes, their ragged breathing hinting that neither were getting enough air. It was okay, Newt thought it would be nice to suffocate due to Thomas kissing him.

It was better than dying on behalf of the virus.

He didn’t know how to kiss. He’d never done it before, and he’d never even seen one. Maybe before the Scorch, his parents had done it while he played in the yard or sat on the couch and listened to the radio. If he’d even had parents.

Thomas had done it before, so he took the lead.

Newt felt the other’s hand slip under his shirt, and press against his chest. He stopped, tensing up. He couldn’t let Tommy see his infection yet.

So he removed a hand from his cheek and wrapped it gently around his wrist, pulling it back. His lips left Thomas’, and he buried his head into his shoulder.

The sobs came, loud and ugly.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

He felt Tommy’s hand in his hair, stroking him gently.

_No it isn’t. No I’m not._

It wasn’t fair. None of it was.

“I’m sorry Thomas, I’m so sorry.”

He sobbed, gripping corners of the fabric, his tears forming a dark circle of color on the shirt. It was beautiful _**and**_ tragic.

“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay.”

Thomas’ voice was quivering. He was frightened, and confused. Who could blame him, his best friend had just kissed him.

_And he kissed back_.

It was a while before Newt finally let go, wiping his eyes and sniffling helplessly. He was a mess, in more ways than one.

He patted Thomas on the shoulder, rising to his feet and shuffling towards the door.

“Newt, wait-“

He heard Thomas say. But he couldn’t bare it anymore, that was his last goodbye.

Thankfully, it went well. Otherwise he might’ve died right there. Of course, he had to say goodbye to Minho as well, but he wasn’t prepared to do it alone.

~

“Don’t lie to me! Don’t, lie to me.”

His brain wasn’t working.

Thomas was scared

_His brain wasn’t working_.

~

“Please Tommy,”

“ _ **Please**_.”

_Click_.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh I’m so sorry, recently I’ve been very obsessed with Newtmas, and after watching the last movie I just had to write this.  
> If you want updates on my Bigger Projects, I’ve created an Instagram! It’s @bubble__kid :)  
> I had to take a break from writing the longer chapters and get this thought out of my system, you know how it is ;-;


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